


Waiting On A War

by love_killed_the_superstar



Series: This World [2]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Episode: s03e21 Same As It Never Was, Gen, Pre-Same As It Never Was, SAINW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 03:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12808416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/love_killed_the_superstar/pseuds/love_killed_the_superstar
Summary: Sometimes April would ask him, “Why don't you talk to them about Donatello? Why don't you reach out to them?”He would always reply, “I do not wish to burden them with my own feelings on the matter.”(How Donatello's disappearance destroys the very foundations of the Hamato family.)





	Waiting On A War

**Author's Note:**

> It's been nearly 3 years since the last time I updated this series. I've written so much for it but none of the pieces fit together coherently enough for me to upload anything, so I thought I would start at the beginning for once. If it reads a bit strange sometimes, this short as heck piece started when I was 16. I'm almost 20.  
> I recently watched Raphael: Mutant Apocalypse and part of me loved it and part of me felt the ending was really anticlimatic. Idk. SAINW will always be my favourite post-apocalyptic tmnt episode, anyway.

It started when Donnie disappeared.

Things had been tense for a while in Manhattan – the public didn't talk about it, but even if they had no clue what was going on beneath their noses there was a sense of uneasiness hanging in the air constantly, dampening the spirits in the street and in the sewers. Leatherhead – well, Leatherhead preferred to keep his head down, anyway, so it had been a while since the turtles had heard from him. The last they'd seen him was some time after their seventeenth birthday, when he had staggered into the lair with several bullets in his arm and his eyes glinting with his darker side. All he had commented was that the Shredder was going to keep climbing up, was going to keep getting stronger, and nobody could keep a lid on him now. Some time after, he'd seemingly moved out, or at least far enough into the unknown of the Manhattan sewers that the turtles couldn't find him.

It was unfortunate, really, that Leatherhead got off lightly by taking the coward's way out, running from the threat that the Shredder posed while politicians on the big screen rowed and argued and took sides in this fruitless fight. (Then again, Leatherhead could be dead for all they knew. There didn't appear to be signs of a struggle in his makeshift home, but maybe he was taken care of quickly – there was just no way of knowing. They searched. They did.) The citizens carried on their daily routine, carrying out each day in a tense quiet, besides the honking of taxis and slurring of drunks at 3am.

At some point Casey had moved in with April and the two guarded the shop almost as though they were afraid footninjas would be more interested in stealing antiques than monopolising the city, but nonetheless they would continue to laugh and joke and smile when the turtles would visit, swapping stories over pizza while April's vanilla candles burned slowly in the next room. It was the aching period of time before an inevitable war began, and Raph would comment almost on a daily basis that he was sick of waiting on a war that would undeniably happen, until Leo would comment sharply for Raph to shut up. Mikey would comment something inappropriate as par usual and then it would be Raph telling _him_ to shut the fuck up, and all the while Donatello would sit quietly, ignoring the pointless argument happening beside him while being absorbed in the pointless argument flickering on the television screen.

Meditating on it would sometimes help Master Splinter, but not all that much, and after a while he realised what was most important and started joining them for these clockwork get-togethers, mildly discussing trivial matters with April while Casey initiated pile-ons with the other four.

The pre-war tension was enough to build arguments in the foundations of their everyday lives, a force that could only be stopped with communication, something they couldn't bring themselves to engage in. Leonardo, so frustrated that the Shredder was growing stronger with each passing day, spent the majority of his time training while mentally beating himself up for being so careless in the past; Raphael, irritated by Leo's sore attitude and his own powerlessness, started snapping at his family more than usual and embarking on regular late night trips topside on his bike, returning home as the sun was just beginning to rise; Michelangelo, miserable from the unwavering atmosphere in the lair, tried to distract himself by burying himself in comics or trying to teach Klunk tricks, munching pizza with his headphones blaring at full volume to drown out the insults being thrown back and forth outside his bedroom; Donatello, brooding and quiet, locking himself away and pouring over his projects like his life depended on it (which, if the Shredder became as powerful as they all anticipated, it would). Master Splinter watched his family deteriorate gradually, powerless to stop it, and meditated on things in the hopes that over time they would heal again.

Then one day something just snapped in their family. Don told them he was going topside for some much needed air, gave a small wave and disappeared, just like that. Nobody notices when people leave, at first – the thought is cast aside, because they always come back, it happens all the time – but by the time they _do_ notice, it's often too late. In Donnie's case it was. They searched, they did, and yelled themselves hoarse calling his name, but nothing turned up: no body, no note, no broken staff or torn up mask. He had left behind no clues or evidence of where he was going, April and Casey hadn't seen him, they found they couldn't track his cell or gather witnesses. It felt surreal that he could simply vanish. They ran through the streets, climbed the buildings, searched the junk yard and the museum and the lair Leatherhead used to inhabit. Three months later, their search dwindled and they sat up for the night in the lair, anxious and wondering.

At last Mikey stood up abruptly, surprising them all. His shaking hands balled up into fists.

“Why did you guys have to fight so much?!” he demanded, anger filling his eyes. “Why couldn't you guys just get along?! Now Donnie's gone – better than sticking around here-”

“Now you listen here,” Raph growled, shoving Mikey against the wall. The dangerous tone present in his voice would have normally scared the crap out of him, but right now Michelangelo felt nothing but his own rage. “Don't try and act like ya know what the hell Donnie's thinkin', we don't know if he ran away or if he was taken by the footninjas or nothin', so don't try ta talk so big about why me and mister fearless leader here have been butting heads-”

“Raphael, Michelangelo! That is enough,” Master Splinter cut in sharply, disrupting the argument. Raph loosened his grip on Mikey, who shoved him back roughly, mouth trembling. He stood for a few moments, his back to the others, before muttering bitterly,

“If Donatello is dead, he died knowing you two were angry. Make up already. Honour him.”

The harshness of his words silenced his family, and Leonardo went to respond, but Mikey was already jumping up, returning to the safety of his room, where he was allowed to be vulnerable and cry and let his own words hit home. The mention of honour was too much.

“I'm going to bed too,” Leo uttered sourly, turning on his heels and leaving the remaining two standing in shock. Master Splinter closed his eyes.

_Please come back to us, my son._

 

...

 

Two years later, when his sons were cold and distant and it was getting harder by the day to keep them together, Splinter couldn't help but feel infuriated by himself. So much time was wasted alone, meditating, trying to reach a place of tranquillity to reflect on pieces of his life that didn't belong anymore. So much time was wasted trying to reach those long gone places again, with Yoshi, with Tang Shen. He missed Leonardo's first words, Raphael's first steps. He missed Michelangelo's first broken bone. He missed Donatello's last goodbye. It was painful that their time was running so short, and he couldn't turn back to those simpler times and hold all four sons in his arms again.

Sometimes April would ask him, “Why don't you talk to them about Donatello? Why don't you reach out to them?”

He would always reply, “I do not wish to burden them with my own feelings on the matter.”

When he lies there dying, while he can hear Raphael screaming that they have to go back, they have to rescue Sensei, he realises how foolish he was. In what he thought was an act of selflessness (“save your brothers, protect them,” he had told Leonardo) he has inflicted upon his son the worst burden of all.

After all, he knew a thing or two about guilt.

He doesn't see Donatello when he dies. He doesn't see his sons, or his Master Yoshi. He sees nothing at all, and then he is gone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Master Splinter, nooooooo. I might touch more on his death in the future. I wonder if the turtles ever think fucked up things like, would Master Splinter still be alive if Donnie was here?  
> Also, I caught up with TMNT 2012 and got so upset when Master Splinter died. Like, holy wow. It upset me how quickly the turtles got over it too, but then, at this point they've already seen him die/almost die at least 3 times so I guess they've become desensitised to it by now...


End file.
